


Sweet Serendipity

by Hustling_Rube93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Older Woman/Younger Woman, One Shot, Romance, Ron’s a bit of a douche, andromione, minor mentions of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustling_Rube93/pseuds/Hustling_Rube93
Summary: Serendipity(n) finding something good without looking for it
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Andromeda Black Tonks
Comments: 14
Kudos: 83





	Sweet Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> A short-ish one shot I thought about and couldn’t get out my head when I should’ve been doing Uni work.
> 
> Those who know me know I 100% hate my own work, but I needed a short break from Bellamione, and once I had over 1000 words written down I couldn’t just abandon it 😅 
> 
> I hope you all like it anyway! 
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy! 
> 
> Rube <3

Serendipity  
(n) finding something good without looking for it

* * *

Half blind with exhaustion, Hermione stumbled out of the Floo into her tiny Watford flat, and groaned. 

What. A. Day. 

In fact, what a fucking week! 

She was exhausted. 

Beyond exhausted. 

It was the type of exhaustion that hung heavy on your shoulders, seeping deep into your bones. The type of exhaustion that made it hard to speak and even harder to focus. The type of exhaustion that came with a 90 hour work week and the reminder that she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

It had been the week from hell.

A new strain of Dragon Pox had brought Wizarding Britain to its knees, and with nearly all of her staff on sick leave with the deadly virus, Hermione had practically broke her neck to single-handedly try and keep her department running as smoothly as possible under the current conditions. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept for more than a few hours or the last time she’d ate anything more substantial than a cereal bar or one of those godawful microwave meals from the supermarket. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, her boss had been nothing but a complete dick, and every time she’d gotten an aggrieved Floo call from him demanding to know why deadlines hadn’t been met, her reasoned excuse that they were currently in the throes of a nationwide epidemic had been met with a snarky response that if the workload was too much for her then maybe she’d be better suited with a transfer to the Ministry mail room. 

Shrugging out of her work robes and slinging her handbag onto the couch, she toed out of her heels, and kicked them under the coffee table. Her obsessive compulsive need to keep her little flat neat could wait until tomorrow. Right now she felt dead on her feet, pissed off, and totally taken for granted, and all she wanted to do was fall face-first into bed, and sleep the whole weekend away. 

When she finally made it to her bedroom, she pushed the door open, and momentarily startled. Her curtains were drawn, the room was dark, and once her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she realised that her bed was also occupied. 

Not that she minded her bed being occupied, it was a wonderful surprise, but this...well, this was unexpected. 

She usually didn’t like surprises, but judging by the tangle of dark curls spread out over the pillow, she already had a fair idea of who had commandeered her bed. 

But still, it was probably best to make doubly sure before she hopped into bed beside them. So she creeped closer, just close enough that she could peer at the face that was partially covered by the duvet, and...oh thank Merlin. 

Andromeda Black was sleeping in her bed. 

Hermione didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. 

She barely stopped herself from doing either. 

She hadn’t seen Andromeda in over a week. With Teddy safely back at school after the Christmas holidays, the older witch had picked up some extra shifts at St. Mungo’s to relieve her colleagues when they’d all started to collapse under the weight of the epidemic. They’d only managed to speak a handful of times; quick Floo calls between double shifts, the last time being yesterday, when Andromeda had briefly checked in during a five minute lunch break. 

Andromeda had been on her twentieth hour awake by that point, but Hermione had been pleased to hear that the spread had lessened, the amount of witches and wizards being admitted with the contagious disease had started to dwindle, and the infected were beginning to recover.

Andromeda was completely dead to the world now. So much so that Hermione would’ve thought to check for a pulse were it not for the dark witch’s deep, even breaths and the occasional cute, snuffly noise she only made when she was in a deep sleep. She wondered when Andromeda had finally left the hospital, and how long she’d been sleeping. It didn’t really matter either way, she was just happy the older witch had chosen to spend the night here.

Smiling, Hermione gently closed the door, her hand against the frame to silently guide it closed. Then she tiptoed around the bed, leaving a trail of clothes in her wake, and picked up her old sleep t-shirt off the floor. She dared a sniff, and decided that even though she’d abandoned the garment so carelessly that morning, it was still acceptable to sleep in. 

Usually a blanket hogger, Andromeda had graciously left her enough of the duvet to work with, and the moment Hermione slid into bed beside her, the older woman rolled towards her. The duvet shifted a little as she moved, and Hermione noticed the thin strap of the black vest Andromeda was wearing. Hermione felt her belly twist pleasantly at the sight, recalling with mouth-watering clarity the last time Andromeda had stayed over; the way she’d wrenched that vest over Andromeda’s head, and the frenzy of heated kisses and greedy, pinching fingers that had followed. 

Hermione took in Andromeda’s features with infatuation, explored the contours of the older witch’s face; slack with the vestiges of sleep, but no less beautiful. There was a faint crease between her eyebrows, the kind that only appeared when she was thinking too hard about something. Hermione leaned in to kiss the frown away, just a soft touch, she didn’t want to wake her after all, but Andromeda’s eyelashes fluttered all the same. 

She reached out, threading her fingers through the soft tangle of brown curls spread out on pillow beside her, and caught the familiar fruity scent of Andromeda’s shampoo mixed with citrusy, patchouli scented perfume she loved so much. Nothing made Hermione’s heart race quite like that smell, and it made her eager to make up for the affection they’d missed over the last several days, whether it be sexual or otherwise, it was nice just to be close to her. 

It wasn’t unheard of for them to spend so much time away from each other, they both had demanding careers after all, but every day they did spend apart always left Hermione feeling...incomplete. But now, she was just so happy that they were together again. Even if Andromeda was sleeping, just being near her made her feel complete again. 

Sometimes she couldn’t believe how damn lucky she was. 

Sometimes she wished Andromeda had walked into her life sooner. 

She remembered how it all began...

There had been no fighting, no arguing, nothing at all to indicate that her husband was unhappy with her or their ten years of marriage. So imagine her surprise when she came home after a long day at work to find divorce papers waiting for her on the kitchen table and a pale faced Ron telling her that things needed to change. 

She’d been surprised, to say the least. 

Maybe that’s where her hatred for the unexpected had stemmed from. 

That, or maybe the time her pity party in the girl’s bathroom had ended up with her nearly being bludgeoned to death by a mountain troll. 

She remembered how Ron had launched into a stuttering spiel about how she worked too hard, about how he barely got to spend any real time with her anymore. She would’ve agreed, if not for the fact that she’d been the primary breadwinner for their household after they’d gotten married and he’d left the Auror Division to help George at the joke shop. He hadn’t made as much money working with his brother, but he loved it, and as long as her husband was happy, Hermione didn’t mind working the extra hours in a job she also loved to keep everything afloat. 

That’s when the fighting had really started, but after a few months of trying to sync their priorities and encourage Ron to find a better paying job so she could free up some of her own time, she’d finally crumbled. In the end, she’d gathered her clothes, all of her knickknacks, her extensive book collection, and shrunk them all into her old beaded bag, then she’d signed the papers, handed Ron her wedding ring, and went to her mother’s house. 

But perhaps the most surprising thing about the whole ordeal was how easy it had been to leave her husband and the life they’d shared without a backwards glance. 

She remembered later, much later, being happy and drunk and excited to see in the new year with her friends and extended family at Grimmauld Place. Ron had been there, with his new girlfriend, and he’d looked so happy. It had been nice to see him happy again, to see him creating a whole new world for himself. 

An emergency at the hospital meant that Andromeda had arrived late to the festivities, the party already in full swing by the time she’d stepped through the Floo. Hermione had happened a glance at Andromeda; fun, easy-going Andromeda, who’d always been kind to her the handful of times they’d met, and she remembered staring at the witch - frazzled and annoyed and still in her Healer scrubs as Harry pressed a tumbler of Firewhisky into her palm - and thinking to herself, you know what? She’s pretty cute...for a woman almost the mirror image of her psycho sister. 

The thought had been quite unexpected. But by then she liked to think she was somewhat of an expert on unexpected things. 

She’d been roaring drunk of course, and hadn’t thought anything else of it for the rest of the evening. That is, until the clock had struck midnight, and she’d immediately made a beeline for the older witch, kissing her with a lot more tongue than was probably necessary for a New Year’s kiss between friends. 

It had been a moment of madness, but the best moment of madness she’d ever had.

And with the benefit of hindsight, she could see now why that sudden random thought about Andromeda Black had been unexpected on a whole new level. Because after so many years with Ron, she’d never once considered that it might’ve been so easy to walk away from him because she’d favoured witches all along. 

She remembered the days following New Year. Andromeda had been a bloody nightmare, flapping around like some sort of headless Hippogriff, desperately trying to apologise for the less than appropriate kiss they’d shared, even though it was Hermione who’d initiated it in the first place. Hermione would’ve thought in Andromeda’s line of work that she would’ve known that there was no saving a headless Hippogriff, so really, there was no point in acting like one. 

She remembered how she’d eventually agreed to go to Andromeda’s house - for tea and a chat the older witch had said. But because Hermione hadn’t been able to get the thought of Andromeda’s ridiculously soft lips out of her head, she’d been desperate to taste them again. 

She’d been desperate to taste the rest of her too. 

And somewhere in the mix, tea and a chat had turned into another kiss and a long, slow fuck in her bed. 

She remembered Andromeda telling her afterwards that she wanted to take things slow - an almost impossible feat, and to this day, Hermione still wasn’t sure how she’d managed - and how she’d stood slack-jawed in her living room when Andromeda had arrived at her tiny flat for their first proper date, wearing a leather jacket and jeans so tight that they’d left little to the imagination even though Hermione had already seen everything Andromeda had to offer. 

She remembered Andromeda whisking her away to a little French restaurant hidden away on the outskirts of Soho, and the warmth that had bloomed in her chest afterwards when Andromeda had escorted her home and kissed her at the end of the night. She remembered all the weeks that followed; lunches and dinners, long walks and movies. And she remembered when Andromeda had finally told her sister about their relationship, and how Mrs Malfoy had merely given her a scathing once over before nodding and warning her that if she ever dared to hurt Andromeda, then there wouldn’t be a body to hide. 

Strangely, her approval had meant the world to her. 

It’s been a few years since all that though. More than a few, actually - considering Teddy was now in fourth year, excelling in Hufflepuff, as they all knew he would - and Andromeda continued to blow her mind every chance she got. 

And Hermione loved her. 

She loved everything about her. 

She loved Andromeda’s hands. Soft knuckles and rough palms that told of the strength of her heart, and how she’d worked so very hard to make life good. She loved how those hands were always kissed with soft brown soil when she planted her Spring seeds, how they fluttered aimlessly when she spoke, how they touched her skin and drove her wild, and how those hands stroked her cheeks when they woke her up in the mornings.

She loved when they were cuddled in bed together, and how Andromeda would huff and roll her eyes whenever Hermione reached out to dance her fingers over the pale dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Sometimes she didn’t use her fingers, sometimes she used her lips. She loved kissing those freckles. 

She loved how her smile could light up any room, and the way her nose scrunched up when she was in a strop. She even loved the way Andromeda stomped her foot whenever she unleashed that fierce little temper of hers - a side Hermione never thought she’d see - but a side that was never directed at her so she didn’t mind much. 

She loved how supportive Andromeda was, how she encouraged her to work hard, even if it meant there were times when they didn’t see each other for days, sometimes weeks on end, because Andromeda shared her passion to succeed. 

Being with Andromeda was an adventure. Their life together was filled with lazy weekends on the couch, drinking tea, and watching reruns of soap operas they pretended not to like even though they both knew which characters were currently having affairs and who’d had a cat fight the previous week. It was steamy mornings spent in bed, skin to skin, sharing kisses and rendering each other speechless with mind-blowing sex. It was laughing with Teddy when he was home from school, both of them teasing Andromeda about her terrible cooking, and begging her to order pizza instead. It was Andromeda tolerating their nonsense exceptionally well, all things considered; Hermione always loved that about her. It was showering with Andromeda after long days at work, and giggling like a schoolgirl when Andromeda mumbled in her sleep. It was being with someone who appreciated how hard she worked and never asked her to change. 

Andromeda was amazing, simple as that, and as many small faults as Hermione could find in her (if she really wanted to be picky), she didn’t think there was anything Andromeda could say or do that would make her want to turn around and run in the opposite direction. Hermione couldn’t imagine her life without her now, it was a wonder they still lived in separate houses.

She was finally beginning to drift off now, gently lulled by Andromeda’s deep, steady breaths, and a small sigh left her lips as she ran her palm down the curve of her lover’s body and pressed a kiss to her ear. Andromeda stirred a little, burrowing her face against the pillow for a few seconds before stilling again. 

Hermione had learned to expect the unexpected, and with that came the knowledge that life was full of wonderful surprises, but the biggest one of all was falling in love with Andromeda Black.


End file.
